Who Needs Enemies
Page 41

I continued to meet his gaze steadily. “Yes.”
His disbelief swirled deep inside. But it didn’t matter. All I needed was time enough—space enough—to find out whether or not Lyle was behind it all. “Your turn.”
He hesitated, then said, a little reluctantly, “They never tested for Prevoron.”
“Why not?”
“Because his alcohol reading was so damn high they thought it unnecessary.”
And maybe it was, but it still needed to be checked. There was always a chance—however minute it might seem at the moment—that my suspicions were right.
“And?”
“And,” he continued, voice harsh, “while I think it will be a waste of everyone’s time, he will be contacted first thing tomorrow to arrange a suitable time for it to be done.”
I just had to hope there’d still be enough evidence of the drug left in his system to be detectable by then. Presuming, of course, he had been drugged. “Thanks. I owe you one.”
“You owe me nothing,” he said, voice still harsh. “Except complete and utter honesty. And we both know I’m as likely to get that as I am to see pigs fly.”
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t, because where this case was concerned, he was right and we both knew it.
Ceri placed a couple of pills and a glass of water in front of me, then plucked the beer from my fingers and glared at Kaij. “Look, can’t these questions wait until tomorrow? She really needs to get some rest.”
His gaze briefly swept my upper body. Gold glittered deep in the green depths—a sure sign of emotions barely controlled. Whether it was just anger, or something stronger, I couldn’t say. He was controlling himself too tightly for me to get any true grip on his deeper emotions.
“Tomorrow, then,” he said softly. “But I want some answers, Harri, or I’ll drag you down to headquarters like I should have done in the first place.”
“Fair enough,” I replied, with a casualness I certainly didn’t feel. “Tomorrow then.”
He gaze rested on mine for a few seconds longer, then he rose abruptly. But half way to the door, he stopped and turned. “I’ve ordered a watch to be kept on you and the house.”
Which explained his sudden appearance, I thought, studying him through slightly narrowed eyes. He’d been coming here to tell me. “That’s not necess-”
“It fucking is,” he snapped back. Then he took a deep breath, said something under his breath, and walked out.
Ceri released a breath. “Wow, he certainly hasn’t lost any of his intensity, has he?”
“No.” I took the painkillers, then glanced around as the ogres walked back into the room. “Anything?”
Guy shook his head. “Plenty of white Holdens, but none with recent rear panel damage.” His expression suddenly brightened. “We did, however, find Goliath’s van. It had some very lovely leather seats in it.”
“Had?” Ceri asked, voice amused.
Guy nodded. “Lovely black ones. Like armchairs to sit in, they are. Perfect for watching the TV from.”
“You are not bringing stolen car seats into my house,” I said.
“Harri my friend, they are not stolen. They are Goliath’s contribution to the beer I had to replace and the damage he did here.”
“Well, you can keep them at your place. I do not want them here.”
Guy shook his head, his expression one of resignation. “You have no sense of style, Harri.”
“And hardly enough space in the living room for three ogres let alone two big car seats.”
“We could move the-”
“No.” I pushed wearily to my feet. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to go collapse into bed.”
“You should,” Guy said, expression suddenly concerned. “You look like crap.”
“And you have to look bad if an ogre is telling you that,” Ceri said blandly. She made a shooing motion with her hands. “You three, out. You can haunt the fridge and TV tomorrow.”
He frowned. “You don’t want us to stick around, just in case the unwanted come calling?”
I hesitated, then shook my head. “Thanks, but Kaij has ordered someone to keep watch on the house. If Goliath or anyone else does attempt a break in, they’ll stop them.”
Only that someone had been ordered to keep a watch on me as much as the house. And that meant from now on, I’d have a tail—an official one.
Which was going to put a cramp on my investigations—something Kaij had no doubt intended.
“Then we’ll shoo, as ordered. Good night, friends Harri and Ceri.”
The three of them left. Ceri locked up the house and I somehow managed to stay awake long enough to send those files to Greg before I collapsed into bed and fell fast sleep.
The phone woke me hours later. I forced an eye open, noted somewhat blearily the sun pouring in through the windows, then groped for my cell.
“Hello?”
“Harri?”
“Yeah.” I rolled onto my back, and instantly a dozen little men armed with sharp pokers began assaulting my body. I bit back a hiss and added, “Who’s this?”
“Darryl. I’ve found a drug dealer you might want to talk to.”
That certainly go my attention. “Does he happen to handle Prevoron?”
“Considering the word on the street is that he pocketed two hundred and fifty grand recently in a Prevoron sale, I’d say yes. And seeing we’re missing about the same about of cash, I thought it was worth mentioning.”
It certainly was. “Where is he at the moment?”
“Home, safe and snug in his bed. You want to pay him a visit?”
I hesitated. The way I was feeling right now, a vicious teddy bear could knock me over. I doubted I’d provide much threat to a drug dealer and I really wasn’t up to sweet talking anyone. “You wouldn’t happen to be free this morning, would you?”
“Certainly am. Swing by the gym opposite the Stoke House to pick me up, and we’ll go from there.”
I glanced at the clock. It was barely seven—no wonder I still felt like shit. Although after the beating I’d taken last night, I doubted if even twelve hours sleep would have been enough. “I’ll be there in half an hour. And thanks for the tip off.”
“Hey, I want the bastard who killed Mona as much as your relative does.”
I believed Darryl when he said that. I was no longer so sure when it came to Lyle.
I hung up, scrubbed a hand across gritty feeling eyes, then forced aching muscles into action and walked across to the windows. I pulled the left side slightly open, wincing at the brightness as I peered out. A non-descript blue car was parked just down the road. I knew all the neighborhood cars—this wasn’t one of them. My watcher was in place.
Which meant I had two options—let them follow me, or sneak out the back and see if I could borrow Delilah’s car. Hell, she’d borrowed enough things from me—time for a little quid pro quo.
I grabbed a quick shower then dressed in my usual jeans and a loose T-shirt and headed out the back door. The back yard bore the bruises of last night’s fight, the rockery half destroyed and more bushes crushed. I wasn’t much of a gardener, but I had put a fair bit of effort into getting this one half decent, and it was really annoying to see it wrecked.
My father definitely owed me—not that I was ever likely to be compensated.
Delilah walked into the kitchen the same time I did. “Harri,” she said, blinking in surprise. She was still in her PJ’s, but her hair had at least been combed, so she’d been up for a while. “What the hell are you doing here at this hour?”
“I wanted to borrow your car for a couple of hours, if you weren’t planning to use it this morning.”
She glanced at her watch, then shrugged. “I’ve got lunch with the family at midday, but if you’re late back, it doesn’t matter.”
“I won’t be late.”
She nodded, then walked across to the table, dug her keys out of the purse hanging off one of the chairs and tossed them to me. “Ignore the rubbish. Haven’t had a chance to clean it out yet.”
“Thanks, Delilah.”
I headed out. Her car—a cute little Mini Cooper—was parked just several doors down from her house, and it was, as she warned, filled with an assortment of take-away wrapping, empty drink cans, and a mountain of old receipts. Not that my car was usually much better—the only difference was that I didn’t have the take-away rubbish.
The traffic was light thanks to the early hour, so it didn’t take me that long to get down to Sandridge. Darryl was waiting on the steps leading up to the gym, a gym bag slung over one shoulder and wearing pale blue bike shorts that left very little to the imagination.
“Mixed circuit class,” he said, as he climbed into the car. “Good for stamina, and not bad scenery for the eyes, either.”
If all the women in the class wore shorts as short as Darryl, I could see why. “Where are we headed?”
“He lives in Duke Street.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Isn’t that close to the police station?”
The dwarf snorted. “Yeah. He practically sells it under their noses.”
I glanced at the rear view mirror, then pulled back out into the traffic. It didn’t take us that long to get across to Duke Street, and I parked in the first space I spotted.
“It’s the red brick building, third floor,” Darryl said, as he shut the door.
“I’m betting they haven’t got elevators, either,” I grumbled.
He glanced at me, eyes narrowing. “Now that you mention it, you are looking a little worse for wear this morning. Tough night?”
“An encounter with a troll nicknamed Goliath.”
“Huh.” His gaze swept me. “I take it you didn’t tackle the bastard alone.”
“Nope.” The building’s glass front door wasn’t security protected or even locked. I pushed it open. “It still took six of us to bring him down.”